“I only wonder to find you holding up your head at all. Your people must
be very silly people, and no mistake. What, to spend a whole night out
in the bay with Charlie Somers and Algy Scott, and then to ask me what
you have done? Do you know what sort of character these boys have got?
They are nice boys, and I don’t care about their morals, don’t you know?
as long as they’re amusing. But then I’ve my husband always by me. Tom
would no more leave me with those men by myself--though they’re all well
enough with anyone that knows how to keep them in order; but a young
girl like you--it will need all that your friends can do to stand by you
and to whitewash you, Stella. Tom didn’t want me to come. ‘You keep out
of it. She has got people of her own,’ he said; but I felt I must. And
then, after all that, you lift up your little nozzle and ask what you
have done!”
Stella sat up, very white, in the big easy-chair where she had been
resting when Mrs. Seton marched in. The little girl was so entirely
overwhelmed by the sudden downfall of all her pretensions to be a
heroine that after the first minute of defiance her courage was
completely cowed, and she could not find a word to say for herself. She
was a very foolish girl carried away by her spirits, by her false
conception of what was smart and amusing to do, and by the imperiousness
natural to her position as a spoilt child whose every caprice was
yielded to. But there was no harm, only folly, in poor little Stella’s
thoughts. She liked the company of the young men and the _éclat_ which
their attendance gave her. To drag about a couple of officers in her
train was delightful to her. But further than that her innocent
imagination did not go. Her wild adventure in the yacht had never
presented itself to her as anything to be ashamed of, and Mrs. Seton’s
horrible suggestion filled her with a consternation for which there was
no words. And it gave her a special wound that it should be Mrs. Seton
who said it, she who had first introduced her to the noisy whirl of a
“set” with which by nature she had nothing to do.
“It was all an accident,” Stella murmured at last; “everybody knows it
was an accident. I meant to go--for ten minutes--just to try--and then
the wind got up. Do you think I wanted to be drowned--to risk my life,
to be so ill and frightened to death? Oh!” the poor little girl cried,
with that vivid realisation of her own distress which is perhaps the
most poignant sentiment in the world--especially when it is
unappreciated by others. Mrs. Seton tossed her head; she was implacable.
No feature of the adventure moved her except to wrath.
“Everybody knows what these accidents mean,” she said, “and as for your
life it was in no more danger than it is here. Charlie Somers knows the
bay like the palm of his hand. He is one of the best sailors going. I
confess I don’t understand what _he_ did it for. Those boys will do
anything for fun; but it wasn’t very great fun, I should think--unless
it was the lark of the thing, just under your father’s windows and so
forth. I do think, Stella, you’ve committed yourself dreadfully, and I
shouldn’t wonder if you never got the better of it. _I_ should never
have held up my head again if it had been me.”
They were seated in the pretty morning-room opening upon the garden,
which was the favourite room of the two girls. The window was open to
admit the sunshine of a brilliant noon, but a brisk fire was burning,
for the afternoons were beginning to grow cold, when the sunshine was no
longer there, with the large breath of the sea. Mrs. Seton had arrived
by an early train to visit her friends, and had just come from Algy’s
sick bed to carry fire and flame into the convalescence of Stella. Her
injured virtue, her high propriety, shocked by such proceedings as had
been thus brought under her notice, were indescribable. She had given
the girl a careless kiss with an air of protest against that very
unmeaning endearment, when she came in, and this was how, without any
warning, she had assailed the little heroine. Stella’s courage was not
at all equal to the encounter. She had held her own with difficulty
before the indifference of the young men. She could not bear up at all
under the unlooked-for attack of her friend.
“Oh, how cruel you are!--how unkind you are!--how dreadful of you to say
such things!” she cried. “As if I was merely sport for them like a--like
any sort of girl; a lark!--under my father’s windows----” It was too
much for Stella. She began to cry in spite of herself, in spite of her
pride, which was not equal to this strain.
Katherine had come in unperceived while the conversation was going on.
“I cannot have my sister spoken to so,” she said. “It is quite false in
the first place, and she is weak and nervous and not able to bear such
suggestions. If you have anything to say against Stella’s conduct it
will be better to say it to my father, or to me. If anybody was to
blame, it was your friends who were to blame. They knew what they were
about and Stella did not. They must be ignorant indeed if they looked
upon her as they would do upon”--Katherine stopped herself
hurriedly--“upon a person of experience--an older woman.”
“Upon me, you mean!” cried Mrs. Seton. “I am obliged to you, Miss
Tredgold! Oh, yes! I have got some experience and so has she, if
flirting through a couple of seasons can give it. Two seasons!--more
than that. I am sure I have seen her at the Cowes ball I don’t know how
many times! And then to pretend she doesn’t know what men are, and what
people will say of such an escapade as that! Why, goodness, everybody
knows what people say; they will talk for a nothing at all, for a few
visits you may have from a friend, and nothing in it but just to pass
the time. And then to think she can be out a whole night with a couple
of men in a boat, and nothing said! Do you mean to say that you, who
are old enough, I am sure, for anything----”
“Katherine is not much older than I am,” cried Stella, drying her tears.
“Katherine is twenty-three--Katherine is----”
“Oh, I’m sure, quite a perfect person! though you don’t always think so,
Stella; and twenty-three’s quite a nice age, that you can stand at for
ever so long. And you are a couple of very impudent girls to face it out
to me so, who have come all this way for your good, just to warn you.
Oh, if you don’t know what people say, I do! I have had it hot all round
for far more innocent things; but I’ve got Tom always to stand by me.
Who’s going to stand by you when it gets told all about how you went out
with Charlie Somers and Algy Scott all by yourself in a boat, and didn’t
come back till morning? You think perhaps it won’t be known? Why, it’s
half over the country already; the men are all laughing about it in
their clubs; they are saying which of ’em was it who played gooseberry?
They aren’t the sort of men to play gooseberry, neither Algy nor
Charlie. The old father will have to come down strong----”
Poor Stella looked up at her sister with distracted eyes. “Oh, Kate,
what does she mean? What does she mean?” she cried.
“We don’t want to know what she means,” cried Katherine, putting her
arms round her sister. “She speaks her own language, not one that we
understand. Stella, Stella dear, don’t take any notice. What are the men
in the clubs to you?”
“I’d like to know,” said Mrs. Seton with a laugh, “which of us can
afford to think like that of the men in the clubs. Why, it’s there that
everything comes from. A good joke or a good story, that’s what they
live by--they tell each other everything! Who would care to have them,
or who would ask them out, and stand their impudence if they hadn’t
always the very last bit of gossip at their fingers’ ends? And this is
such a delicious story, don’t you know? Charlie Somers and Algy Scott
off in a little pleasure yacht with a millionaire’s daughter, and kept
her out all night, by Jove, in a gale of wind to make everything nice!
And now the thing is to see how far the old father will go. He’ll have
to do something big, don’t you know? but whether Charlie or Algy is to
be the happy man----”
“Kate!” said Stella with a scream, hiding her head on her sister’s
shoulder. “Take me away! Oh, hide me somewhere! Don’t let me see
anyone--anyone! Oh, what have I done--what have I done, that anything so
dreadful should come to me.”
“You have done nothing, Stella, except a little folly, childish folly,
that meant nothing. Will you let her alone, please? You have done enough
harm here. It was you who brought those--those very vulgar young men to
this house.”
Even Stella lifted her tearful face in consternation at Katherine’s
boldness, and Mrs. Seton uttered a shriek of dismay.
“What next--what next? Vulgar young men! The very flower of the country,
the finest young fellows going. You’ve taken leave of your senses, I
think. And to this house--oh, my goodness, what fun it is!--how they
will laugh! To _this_ house----”
“They had better not laugh in our hearing at least. This house is sacred
to those who live in it, and anyone who comes here with such hideous
miserable gossip may be prepared for a bad reception. Those vulgar
cads!” cried Katherine. “Oh, that word is vulgar too, I suppose. I don’t
care--they are so if any men ever were, who think they can trifle with a
girl’s name and make her father come down--with what? his money you
mean--it would be good sound blows if I were a man. And for what? to buy
the miserable beings off, to shut their wretched mouths, to----”
“Katherine!” cried Stella, all aglow, detaching herself from her
sister’s arms.
“Here’s heroics!” said Mrs. Seton; but she was overawed more or less by
the flashing eyes and imposing aspect of this young woman, who was no
“frump” after all, as appeared, but a person to be reckoned with--not
Stella’s duenna, but something in her own right. Then she turned to
Stella, who was more comprehensible, with whom a friend might quarrel
and make it up again and no harm done. “My dear,” she said, “you are the
one of this family who understands a little, who can be spoken to--I
shan’t notice the rude things your sister says--I was obliged to tell
you, for it’s always best to hear from a friend what is being said about
you outside. You might have seen yourself boycotted, don’t you know? and
not known what it meant. But, I dare say, if we all stand by you, you’ll
not be boycotted for very long. You don’t mean to be rude, I hope, to
your best friends.”
“Oh, Lottie! I hope you will stand by me,” cried Stella. “It was all an
accident, as sure, as sure----! I only took them to the yacht for
fun--and then I thought I should like to see the sails up--for fun. And
then--oh, it was anything but fun after that!” the girl cried.
“I dare say. Were you sick?--did you make an exhibition of yourself? Oh,
I shall hear all about it from Algy--Charlie won’t say anything, so he
is the one, I suppose. Don’t forget he’s a very bad boy--oh, there isn’t
a good one between them! _I_ shouldn’t like to be out with them alone.
But Charlie! the rows he has had everywhere, the scandals he has made!
Oh, my dear! If you go and marry Charlie Somers, Stella, which you’ll
have to do, I believe----”
“He is the very last person she shall marry if she will listen to me!”
“Oh, you are too silly for anything, Katherine,” said Stella, slightly
pushing her away. “You don’t know the world, you are goody-goody. What
do you know about men? But I don’t want to marry anyone. I want to have
my fun. The sea was dreadful the other night, and I was terribly
frightened and thought I was going to be drowned. But yet it was fun in
a way. Oh, Lottie, you understand! One felt it was such a dreadful thing
to happen, and the state papa and everybody would be in! Still it is
very, very impudent to discuss me like that, as if I had been run away
with. I wasn’t in the least. It was I who wanted to go out. They said
the wind was getting up, but I didn’t care, I said. ‘Let’s try.’ It was
all for fun. And it was fun, after all.”
“Oh, if you take it in that way,” said Mrs. Seton, “and perhaps it is
the best way just to brazen it out. Say what fun it was for everybody.
Don’t go in for being pale and having been ill and all that. Laugh at
Algy for being such a milksop. You are a clever little thing, Stella. I
am sure that is the best way. And if I were you I should smooth down the
old cats here--those old cats, you know, that came to the picnic--and
throw dust in the eyes of Lady Jane, and then you’ll do. I’ll fight your
battles for you, you may be sure. And then there is Charlie Somers. I
wouldn’t turn up my nose at Charlie Somers if I were you.”
“He is nothing to me,” said Stella. “He has never said a word to me that
all the world--that Kate herself--mightn’t hear. When he does it’ll be
time enough to turn up my nose, or not. Oh, what do I care? I don’t want
to have anybody to stand up for me. I can do quite well by myself, thank
you. Kate, why should I sit here in a dressing gown? I am quite well. I
want the fresh air and to run about. You are so silly; you always want
to pet me and take care of me as if I were a child. I’m going out now
with Lottie to have a little run before lunch and see the view.”
“Brava,” said Mrs. Seton, “you see what a lot of good I’ve done
her--that is what she wants, shaking up, not being petted and fed with
sweets. All right, Stella, run and get your frock on and I’ll wait for
you. You may be quite right, Miss Tredgold,” she said, when Stella had
disappeared, “to stand up for your family. But all the same it’s quite
true what I say.”
“If it is true, it is abominable; but I don’t believe it to be true,”
Katherine cried.
“Well, I don’t say it isn’t a shame. I’ve had abominable things said of
me. But what does that matter so long as your husband stands by you like
a brick, as Tom does? But if I were you, and Charlie Somers really comes
forward--it is just as likely he won’t, for he ain’t a marrying man, he
likes his fun like Stella--but if he does come forward----”
“I hope he will have more sense than to think of such a thing. He will
certainly not be well received.”
“Oh, if you stick to that! But why should you now? If she married it
would be the best thing possible for you. You ain’t bad looking, and I
shouldn’t wonder if you were only the age she says. But with Stella here
you seem a hundred, and nobody looks twice at you----”
Katherine smiled, but the smile was not without bitterness. “You are
very kind to advise me for my good,” she said.
“Oh, you mean I’m very impudent--perhaps I am! But I know what I’m
saying all the same. If Charlie Somers comes forward----”
“Advise him not to do so, you who are fond of giving advice,” said
Katherine, “for my father will have nothing to say to him, and it would
be no use.”
“Oh, your father!” said Mrs. Seton with contempt, and then she kissed
her hand to Stella, who came in with her hat on ready for the “run” she
had proposed. “Here she is as fresh as paint,” said that mistress of all
the elegancies of language--“what a good ’un I am for stirring up the
right spirit! You see how much of an invalid she is now! Where shall we
go for our run, Stella, now that you have made yourself look so killing?
You don’t mean, I should suppose, to waste that toilette upon me?”
“We’ll go and look at the view,” said Stella, “that is all I am equal
to; and I’ll show you where we went that night.”
“Papa will be ready for his luncheon in half an hour, Stella.”
“Yes, I know, I know! Don’t push papa and his luncheon down my throat
for ever,” cried the girl. She too was a mistress of language. She went
out with her adviser arm-in-arm, clinging to her as if to her dearest
friend, while Katherine stood in the window, rather sadly, looking after
the pair. Stella had been restored to her sister by the half-illness of
her rescue, and there was a pang in Katherine’s mind which was mingled
of many sentiments as the semi-invalid went forth hanging upon her worst
friend. Would nobody ever cling to Katherine as Stella, her only sister,
clung to this woman--this--woman! Katherine did not know what epithet to
use. If she had had bad words at her disposal I am afraid she would have
expended them on Mrs. Seton, but she had not. They were not in her way.
Was it possible this--woman might be right? Could Stella’s mad prank, if
it could be called so--rather her childish, foolish impulse, meaning no
harm--tell against her seriously with anybody in their senses? Katherine
could not believe it--it was impossible. The people who had known her
from her childhood knew that there was no harm in Stella. She might be
thoughtless, disregarding everything that came in the way of her
amusement, but after all that was not a crime. She was sure that such
old cats as Mrs. Shanks and Miss Mildmay would never think anything of
the kind. But then there was Lady Jane. Lady Jane was not an old cat;
she was a very important person. When she spoke the word no dog ventured
to bark. But then her kindness to the Tredgold girls had always been a
little in the way of patronage. She was not of their middle-class world.
The side with which she would be in sympathy would be that of the young
men. The escapade in the boat would be to her their fun, but on Stella’s
it would not be fun. It would be folly of the deepest dye, perhaps--who
could tell?--depravity. In fiction--a young woman not much in society
instinctively takes a good many of her ideas from fiction--it had become
fashionable of late to represent wicked girls, girls without soul or
heart, as the prevailing type. Lady Jane might suppose that Stella, whom
she did not know very well, was a girl without soul or heart, ready to
do anything for a little excitement and a new sensation, without the
least reflection what would come of it. Nay, was not that the _rôle_
which Stella herself was proposing to assume? Was it not to a certain
extent her real character? This thought made Katherine’s heart ache. And
how if Lady Jane should think she had really compromised herself,
forfeited, if not her good name, yet the bloom that ought to surround
it? Katherine’s courage sank at the thought. And, on the other hand,
there was her father, who would understand none of these things, who
would turn anybody out of his house who breathed a whisper against
Stella, who would show Sir Charles himself the door.